


(i don't need a reason when) you make me speechless

by shineyma



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e17 Turn Turn Turn, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6497605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineyma/pseuds/shineyma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment to himself is the least Ward deserves. It isn't, however, what he <em>wants</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(i don't need a reason when) you make me speechless

“Very well,” Jemma says, stripping off her gloves. “I do wish you’d stay here and get some rest, but if you absolutely _must_ accompany Agent Hand to the Fridge, you’re cleared to do so. Just _please_ take it easy.”

Ward nods once. “Thanks, Simmons.”

His voice is heavy, and even though he was all but vibrating with impatience when Coulson dragged him to her for a quick check over, he makes no move to get off the table. He looks exhausted and resigned and a whole host of other unpleasant things, and for a moment, Jemma wants so badly to hug him that she actually, physically _aches_ with temptation.

But Ward isn’t the sort for hugs, and to have one forced upon him would hardly be comforting.

Instead, she turns her back, busying herself with packing away her medkit in order to give him a moment of privacy. After everything that’s happened today— _HYDRA_ stepping out of the shadows, the team storming the Hub to rescue her, the revelation that Ward’s own mentor is the Clairvoyant they’ve been chasing for so long—it’s the least he deserves.

It does not, however, appear to be what he _wants_.

She doesn’t know he’s moved until she turns to look for her adhesive tape, which seems to have disappeared. When she does, she’s so surprised to find him standing directly behind her that she very nearly jumps right out of her skin.

“ _Ward_!” she exclaims, hand on her racing heart. The poor thing has had one too many shocks today; if she’s not careful, it will be giving out on her before she hits thirty. “What are—?”

The rest of her question dies in her throat…which is probably just as well, as it would have been horribly muffled, anyway, by the way his lips cover hers.

It’s yet another shock, but this one she welcomes gladly, and she doesn’t waste time on questioning why—why her, why now, why _anything_ —before returning it.

The kiss isn’t the sort she might have _expected_ from Ward, but it _is_ exactly what she’s dreamed—and, guiltily, fantasized—about: hungry, _demanding_ , unconcerned with propriety or professionalism or anything at all but desire and need. One of his arms is like steel around her waist, keeping her pressed close against him, while the other hand sinks into her hair and holds on tight.

It’s almost as though he intends to keep her from pulling away—which is absurd; why on _earth_ would she pull away?—but before she can truly consider that thought, it falls apart. All that matters is his lips and his tongue and his _heat_ , the warmth of his bare skin seeping through her shirt to set her ablaze.

He’s a fantastic kisser.

“Ahem.”

The unexpected sound startles them apart, and Ward moves just as quickly and silently as he did before kissing her: between one blink and the next, there’s a good two feet of space between them. Jemma is left clinging to the counter behind her for support, breathless and a touch dizzy.

Which is just…such a mortifying state to be in in the presence of one’s commanding officer.

“Sir,” she says, grasping for composure and missing by at least a mile. Even to her own ears, she sounds horribly flustered. “I—that is—”

Coulson only goes on smiling gently, appearing amused and possibly even a little pleased.

“I’ll take that to mean Ward’s fit for duty,” he says.

“Yes,” she agrees at once and, remembering the situation, happily takes the excuse of resuming packing up her medkit to turn away. “Typically I would prescribe at least two days of bed rest, but…considering the circumstances…” She finds the adhesive tape behind a stack of safety manuals (what is it doing _there_?) and, once she’s returned it to its proper place, zips up her kit. “He’s cleared for duty.”

“Glad to hear it,” Coulson says, and then is silent for a long moment.

Even though she has nothing left to do, Jemma keeps her eyes fixed determinedly on her closed medkit. There is absolutely no possible way she can face Coulson right now—no matter that she’d dearly love to see what sort of look is on _Ward’s_ face, whether he might regret whatever impulse drove him to kiss her so suddenly.

She hopes he doesn’t.

“Agent Hand is ready to leave,” Coulson continues eventually, voice pitched away from Jemma and therefore, presumably, towards Ward.

“Understood,” Ward says, and she hears a slight rustle of fabric—perhaps he’s putting his shirt back on? That’s always a shame, but then, he can hardly serve as an armed escort whilst half-dressed—that cuts off abruptly when Coulson speaks again.

“I’d like you to take Simmons with you.”

Jemma whirls at once to face him, forgetting her embarrassment in the wake of her shock. “Sir?”

“HYDRA’s been hiding in SHIELD since the beginning, Simmons,” he says, expression grave. “There’s no telling what they’ve been up to or where. For all we know, all the dangerous artifacts stored at the Fridge could just be empty boxes—or they could be even worse than their files would have us believe. I’d like you to go along and lead the scientists there in cataloging all of the restricted inventory.”

It takes her a moment to absorb his reasoning, but once she does, she realizes the sense in it. HYDRA spent seventy years in SHIELD’s shadow; it’s unlikely that they were simply patiently waiting for their day in the spotlight. They might have been up to no end of mischief over the last few decades, and of course all of their activity needs to be rooted out and countered as soon as possible.

After all of the day’s excitement, she’s not particularly eager to walk right back into danger—and the Fridge _will_ be dangerous; though they’re holding it for the moment, HYDRA is no doubt anxious to take it from them—but her duty as a SHIELD agent hasn’t ended just because _SHIELD_ has.

“Of course, sir,” she says.

Coulson smiles briefly, then looks to Ward.

“I’ll look after her,” he promises at once, and Jemma has spent enough time in the field, now, to appreciate rather than resent it.

“Good.” Coulson nods to them both. “Stay safe—and stay in touch.”

“Yes, sir,” Jemma says.

There’s a bit of fuss, after that—Fitz is _not_ pleased to hear that she’s leaving, and Skye does her fair share of fretting, as well—but soon enough, they’re fetching their go-bags from the Bus and following Hand to the hangar. They have no chance to talk (about _anything_ ), but Ward sticks close to Jemma the whole time. He’s a steady and solid warmth at her elbow, so reassuring that she doesn’t even flinch when Garrett—heavily restrained and no less smug for it—grins horribly at the news she’ll be joining them.

They’re taking a jump jet, the better to pass under the radar, and so there is no Cage in which to contain Garrett. He’ll be in the jet’s cabin with them, impossible to ignore or pretend not to notice, which is sure to be unpleasant. She knows he’s already made a nuisance of himself in the brief time he’s been in custody, leering at the poor medic (thankfully _not_ Jemma) called upon to treat him and threatening anyone who passes with any number of terrible fates.

She can only imagine how much worse he’ll be in an enclosed space—and with Ward, his betrayed protégé, as a target for his taunting.

Ward’s resigned expression as they fall into step behind the guards escorting Garrett suggests that he, too, is imagining the misery that’s sure to come, and it tugs awfully at Jemma’s heart. Despite the risk of being seen—and her fear the gesture might be unwelcome—she dares to take his hand for a moment and give it an encouraging squeeze.

It earns her a tired but lovely smile. She can only hope the smile she offers in return isn’t as foolish as it feels.

“Everything’s gonna be fine,” he promises her quietly—and isn’t it just like him to offer _her_ reassurance when _he’s_ the one who looks so badly in need of it?

“Of course it will,” she agrees, squeezing his hand again.

Jemma has a difficult few hours, followed by what will inevitably be fraught and exhausting days, ahead of her. However, she’s certain he’s right: everything will be fine. She’ll be safe with Ward.

And…well, it’s hardly the time, but…perhaps they might even find a moment or two to revisit that kiss.


End file.
